


Your World, Our Future

by ChrisWacky



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Blood and Injury, Character Study, Dancer Questline (Final Fantasy XIV), Dark Knight Questline (Final Fantasy XIV), Dwarf Beast Tribe Questline, Eden's Gate, Fluff and Humor, Friendship, Gen, Hildibrand Questline (Final Fantasy XIV), Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Parody, Pixie Beast Tribe Questline (Final Fantasy XIV), Spoilers up to 5.3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:28:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 18,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27187264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChrisWacky/pseuds/ChrisWacky
Summary: A curated selection of one-shots written for the Tumblr 30 Day FFXIV Write Challenge.Features the various misadventures of the Scions following their return to the Source, as well as checking up on friends from the First. Plus, a few trips down memory lane with the Warrior of Light, an Elezen woman named Robin Sitat.
Relationships: Ardbert/Fray/Warrior of Light, Implied Gaia/Ryne | Minfilia
Kudos: 8
Collections: #FFxivWrite2020 Final Fantasy 30 Day Writing Challenge





	1. Table of Contents

**Author's Note:**

> Instead of posting all of my prompts from the writing challenge, I decided to choose the ones I liked best, touch them up a little and present them here. I really enjoyed writing for this challenge, and I hope you enjoy what I've written!
> 
> These stories feature my Warrior of Light, Robin Sitat. You can see what she looks like casually [here](https://i.imgur.com/NsL1oRH.png). [Here](https://pbs.twimg.com/media/EfGDbMsWkAEYfIw?format=png&name=360x360) is what she looks like as a dark knight. Some of these stories take place during Stormblood, where [this](https://pbs.twimg.com/media/D-wLJAjXoAMdNSz?format=png&name=small) was her primary look.

** Table of Contents **

**I. Lucubration ~** _Ronitt has war machines to manufacture, and Ozogg’s new reclusive habits aren’t getting them built any faster._

**II. Muster ~** _G’raha Tia finally gets to have another adventure with the Warrior of Light, but this one is less glitzy than he envisioned._

**III. Clinch ~** _Our agent of inquiry, Hildibrand, caught red handed fleeing the scene of the crime!? Has our virtuous inspector been seduced by the siren call of debauchery? Manderville Senior seeks answers!_

**IV. Nonagenarian ~** _Y’shtola seeks out her old master for advice but receives a lecture instead._

**V. Clamor ~** _Anyone who’s anyone in Eorzea has a doll, and the Gold Saucer does everything in its power to ensure the Warrior of Light’s is a smash hit._

**VI. Lush ~** _Gaia and Ryne earn their green thumbs planting seedlings in the Empty._

**VII. Avail ~** _Turns out becoming a renowned Warrior of Light takes more than hearing a voice in your head. Theyler and Vonard are learning that the hard way._

**VIII. Ultracrepidarian ~** _They were nothing but pawns in a game they forgot the rules to. The Warrior of Darkness was never interested in playing. Yet, somehow, Elidibus knew she was still going to win._

**IX. Foibles ~** _The Warrior of Light visits Sidguru and Rielle bearing a gift._

**X. Part ~** _Roicete suspects that her sister might be getting herself into trouble, but she doesn’t have the courage to confront her. Or courage in general._

**XI. Ache ~** _The Seventh Umbral Calamity ravages Eorzea. How we rise from tragedy defines us._

**XII. Tooth and Nail ~** _Everything is riding on you not losing. That doesn’t mean you’re destined to win._

**XIII. Shuffle ~** _Ranaa Mhigo might not know the Warrior of Light very well, but as an entertainer she knew when someone needed dance to take their mind off things._

**XIV. Argy-bargy ~** _The Leveilleur twins being seen getting along is a rare sight. Hence why you won’t see that here._

**XV. Where the Heart Is ~** _For the first time in her life, the Warrior of Light has everything she needs._

**XVI. Beam ~** _In the name of the Twelve, Tataru will punish you!_

**XVII. When Pigs Fly ~** _Balance may be restored to Lyhe Mheg, but there are still nightmares to hunt. Tyr Beq is determined to find the nastiest ones._

**XVIII. Irenic ~** _A mammot in Ishgard begins acting illogically, thinking back to a former inquisitor who regarded the machine as “friend.”_

**XIX. Wish ~** _Tataru feels that the Scions are far overdue for a bonding exercise._


	2. Lucubration

I was almost relieved that Ozogg started to hole herself up in her little corner of the workshop. She still insisted on walking around without her helmet, and I felt myself blushing under my own whenever I caught a glimpse of her naked face. Ozogg was always a bold one, but this was next level. Perhaps the workshop should establish a dress code. Just for my own peace of mind.

I couldn't have her shirk her responsibilities to the workshop, though. We were ramping up production so that our tanks could be deployed in all corners of Novrvandt and needed all hands on deck now. Plus, in all honesty, I did miss the rivalry we had going when the production of Watt’s tanks was merely a pipe dream we both shared. I needed to coax her out of her lair, even if that meant looking at her face. Steeling my nerves and inhaling deep, I decided to bang on the door to Ozogg’s chamber.

“Ozogg,” I called, “How long do you intend to hide in there? We’re short-staffed as it is!” No pun intended.

Only a few moments passed before I decided that Ozogg simply was never going to answer and I should head on back before I had to see---

Oh, too late. Ozogg answered the door pretty faced - _I mean pretty fast!!_

“Lali-ho, Ronitt,” she said with a quick and half-hearted hand gesture. She looked pale, and there were bags under her eyes. How long had it been since she slept? “I’m busy. Hire someone else to make the damn tanks.”

I scowled underneath my helmet. “What could possibly be keeping you so busy?”

Some life came back into her eyes, as if she was waiting for me to ask that. “You wanna see?”

She moved away from the door and gestured to me to come in. Hesitantly, I complied. By Watt’s hammer, the place was a total mess. Her desk in the corner had candles that were now a pool of sticky wax and books that were practically spilled off the surface. Blueprints were stuck to the wall, and there were even more stuffed under her tiny bed. I could barely walk around without stepping on clothing, books and other possessions, and the smell of old food insulted my nostrils.

“Wow, Ozogg, you live like this?”

All I had in my room were my clothes, my bed with the little hammer sheets and a mirror for practicing my lali-ho-ing in. Did a dwarf need anything else, really?

“Forget the mess, Ronitt,” Ozogg replied. “What you see before you is the fruits of weeks of study. I’m close to a technological breakthrough that will put your little toy tanks to shame.”

Did she forget that she played a large role in getting those “toys” to market? And frankly, I was more concerned about the fruits in her trash that were attracting flies than her "study."

I had no idea what half of her blueprints were even supposed to convey. They looked like half-finished concepts, and none of them seemed to correlate with one another. Either she was quite literally throwing ideas at the wall or these were the drawings of a mad, sleep-deprived dwarf. And hey, who’s to say it couldn’t be both?

My attention was mostly drawn to the strange writing that appeared on some of the blueprints. The symbols didn’t look like they belonged to any language I knew from Noverandt. I asked Ozogg outright what the writing was supposed to be.

“Ah, you noticed!” she said, clapping her hands together. She trotted over to her desk and procured a book that was practically hanging off her desk. The book was quickly forced into my hands. I opened the pages and saw images of foreign technology accompanied by the text written in the same language that was on the blueprints.

Ozogg explained as I squinted at the pages. “During one of my little pow-wows with the Warrior of Darkness, I asked if they could share some crafting tips from their land. They handed me this book. The language is used by an old tribe from their land. It was a little difficult to decipher at first, but I realized it actually shares similar structure to our own writing. Now I’m learning building techniques from foreign lands!”

“Wow,” was all I could say. A lot of the techniques depicted were going way over my head, but it looked like Ozogg was starting to get a grasp on the fundamentals on top of learning an entirely new language. She was certainly dedicated, already thinking beyond her scope after completing such a large project. I was gonna have to step up my game, too, if I wanted to be a worthy rival.

I looked up to Ozogg. Staring at her face was getting a little easier, but I still buried my head back into the book after too much exposure.

“Listen, when you finally leave your hideout, can you _please_ put a helmet back on?” I begged.

Ozogg laughed. “Maybe you should learn to take it off every once in a while, Ronitt! It’s quite liberating - and it makes the beating sun a little more tolerable.”

“It certainly hasn’t made you any more tolerable!” 

'Take off my helmet' - the nerve to even suggest that! 

“C’mon...I want to see if you look handsome or like an ugly troll.”

That’s it, I’m outta here.


	3. Muster

“Robin,” G’raha Tia began, “when you mentioned we would be ‘seeking adventure,’ this wasn’t precisely what I had in mind.”

“Being an adventurer isn’t all about ancient towers and monster-infested mines,” Robin Sitat said. “Sometimes it’s about helping out the little guy.”

“I understand the merit behind that. This just seems beyond the pale...”

G’raha Tia grimaced as he stuck his hands back into the riverbank in search of a Gridanian traveler’s silver bracelet. Robin Sitat, the Warrior of Light, was doing much the same. She seemed unbothered that her very expensive leather boots were getting wet and caked in mud. G’raha, not wanting to sully the clothes Tataru had put so much care into tailoring for him, had taken off his boots and gloves and rolled up his sleeves. Seeing his friend not do the same made him oddly self-conscious. He wondered if caring about keeping his clothes dry made him look like a greenhorn, or if this was simply a difference in priority. Maybe you just care about these things more when you’re mentally hundreds of years old.

“If you wanna be an adventurer, you gotta be able to muck around in the mud,” Robin explained. “Quests like this build character. Before you reach greater heights, you gotta be treated like dirt.”

“I...see.”

He pondered what demeaning task this Elezen woman had done over the years, shivering as his imagination took him dark places.

As disappointing as this errand was, G’raha still considered it a blessing to spend quality time with his long-cherished friend. He was no longer tethered to the Crystal Tower, his aether no longer being bargained for power, enabling him to live a normal life for the first time in centuries and indulge in his wanderlust. 

Liberating the Source and healing the scars of the First was his only priority for so long that he never imagined fate would allow any selfish indulgence, and he had been content with that. His death was ordained so many lifetimes ago that he considered his continued existence a cosmic mistake. Now that he had been given a second chance at life, he wasn’t going a single moment for granted. Even if it meant getting his hands dirty.

The search for the bracelet continued for a while, until Robin broke their silence. “Hey, is that…?”

G’raha turned to see Robin pointing at a bog yarzon. Nothing seemed particularly peculiar about it at first, until G’raha noticed what was in its mouth: the bracelet. He stood straight up. Yarzons were notoriously territorial. The yarzon likely viewed the bracelet as its property after finding it in its riverbank, and it  _ definitely _ didn’t appreciate two adventures rummaging around its territory.

In an instant, the yarzon swallowed the entire bracelet and charged at Robin. Thinking quickly, G’raha reached for the staff on his back and blasted the yarzon with a blizzard spell, the icicles piercing its head and killing it instantly. The yarzon’s legs curled inwards as its corpse lay submerged in the water. 

The two adventurers hovered over the deceased yarzon. G’raha shook his head.

“How unfortunate,” he said. “We’ll have to apologize to our client for losing her possession.”

“Get the bracelet,” Robin said curtly.

“What?”

“Reach into the yarzon and get the bracelet.”

“That’s unseemly.”

“So is failure.”

“Robin…”

“You can’t tell me you’re scared to reach into a yarzon’s mouth after everything you’ve put yourself through. C’mon, G’raha, you can do it!”

G’raha stared at his friend, who simply gave him an encouraging smile and beckoned with both hands toward the yarzon. His shoulders and tail drooped, as he realized there would be no arguing out of this plan. He could run, but Robin would catch him like a wild courel chasing its prey. Robin’s eccentric and assertive attitude reminded him a lot of his youth. He  _ was  _ back in his youthful body, so perhaps it was time to channel back some of that flair.

At the coercion of his friend, he mustered the courage to kneel down and pry open the yarzon’s maw. But first, he had to pluck the icicles embedded into its head one by one. With his hands nice and freezing, G’raha cautiously stuck one in, his skin crawling as he navigated his way through the viscous innards. His unfamiliarity with yarzon anatomy made his search more terrifying. Were they acidic or toxic at all? Was he going to have to see a white mage after this? Hells, if this was how he was actually meant to die, they should write “fortune doesn’t favor the bold” on his tombstone. 

He took out the first thing he got his hands on, which turned out to be the head of a ladybug covered in unknown fluid, which he quickly tossed away, sounding repulsed. A pleading look was shot Robin’s way, hoping she would take pity on him and take over. No dice.

“Kinda surprised you’re having trouble,” Robin said. “It’s only a head no bigger than a lalafell’s.”

They agreed on that front. G’raha felt like he was reaching into a wormhole when he stuck his hand in, like the universe was playing a prank on him. After another venture into the yarzon, G’raha retrieved the bracelet. He held it between his thumb and index finger, revolted. Mission accomplished, but the cost was too great.

Robin put an arm around him and grinned. “Welcome to adventuring, G’raha.”

He would absolutely take this moment for granted.


	4. Clinch

Godbrand caught his boy making a mad dash out of the Steps of Nald toward Western Thanalan. Hildibrand’s jaw dropped in horror seeing his father show up out of the blue, blocking his path no less. He was going too fast to stop or turn around on a dime, so a clash was inevitable. Despite how low the odds of blowing past his father were, Hildibrand met the challenge with unwavering fortitude, like a true Manderville man.

The two collided and clinched, Hildibrand exerting every muscle in his body to try and budge his father. After much struggling, Hildibrand somehow managed it: he managed to not move his father even a single inch. Instead, Goldbrand put his son in a front facelock before suplexing him so forcefully into the dirt that the citizens of Ul’dah felt a tremor beneath their feet.

A classic case of “stoppable force meets immovable object”.

“Hildy, I’m surprised at you,” Godbrand said, dusting off his shoulders and pristine white boxers. “To think you would steal from your own family!”

Hildibrand, whose head was submerged in the ground, was astonished to hear such slander from his own father (at least he assumed what he heard was slander, hard to tell with dirt in your ears). He got on all fours and pulled his head out of the ground. After falling flat on his ass, he looked up at his father, mortified.

“Father, you would believe such baseless hearsay?”

Picking himself off the ground, Hildibrand stuck a pose most gentlemanly in front of his father, flexing his muscles and flashing his glistening white teeth, which contrasted with how dirty the rest of his face was.

“I am Hildibrand, agent of enquiry, inspector extraordinaire, and a Manderville man besides! I don’t know who is trying to besmirch my good name, but a gentleman would never engage in petty thievery, especially against his own flesh and blood!”

Godbrand stroked his chin. He couldn’t deny such thievery would be out of character for his son. However, an Au Ra man reported that one of his “precious wares” was stolen, and gave quite a descriptive profile of the thief in question. This description matched Hildibrand to a T. Manderville men  _ were _ distinct enough to pick out of a crowd.

He explained, “I’ve received word of an incident at the Gold Saucer, and here I see you running from Ul’dah like a courel was hot on your trail. Care to explain yourself?”

Oh, the Gold Saucer, Hildibrand thought. Was that what this was all about? His relief was palpable. “Ah, I see where I must have inherited my impeccable deduction skills! Indeed, I was at the Gold Saucer just now. However, the account you received on those events seems to be grossly misinformed. There was no theft, but rather a daring rescue mission!”

“Rescue mission? Explain this to me.”

Better yet, Hildibrand could just show his father who - or what - he saved from the Gold Saucer. When investigating his inner coat pocket, however, he was stunned to find that what he was looking for was missing. He scanned the area in a panic before pinpointing what he was looking for: a small dog whose head was submerged in the ground, just as Hildibrand’s was a moment earlier. 

Godbrand saw the dog was well, the realization of what he had done sinking in. “Thal’s beard! You didn’t tell me you were carrying an animal with you, Hildy!”

There was no opportunity to explain that, Hildibrand wanted to say, but saving his friend was a more pressing matter. With Manderville strength, he yanked the dog out of the dirt. After inspecting its face, Hildibrand sighed with relief. No sign of injury. 

“Rest easy, Father,” he said, presenting the dog to him. “No harm done!”

The dog’s face looked disfigured. Its teeth were crooked, it could barely open one of its eyes and resembled that of a hideous, middle-aged man. Godbrand clasped the sides of his head in panic.

“No harm done?! This poor dog’s face is ruined!”

Hildibrand grimaced. “Father, you misunderstand. This is just how his face looks. You’re being rude!”

The strange dog snickered. “No, it’s okay, I live for this kinda reaction.”

Godbrand blinked. Was crushing guilt causing him to hallucinate, or did that dog just speak like a person?

Hildibrand lowered his companion onto the floor. “Father, meet Manjimutt. He’s what’s known in a distant land as a ‘yo-kai’. Manjimutt was to be given away to an adventurer by an Au Ra gentleman who fashioned himself a ‘wanderer’. Now, I do not mean to judge this gentleman’s character, but I was appalled to see these creatures with dreams and aspirations of their own being sold off against their will for mere  _ tokens _ ! When I saw Manjimutt looking at me with his sad, deformed puppy eyes, I knew I couldn’t allow this creature to be someone’s minion!”

Godbrand nodded along, pretending any of this made sense and wasn’t part of some Allagan witchcraft.

“You see,” Hildibrand continued, “Manjimutt has dreams of being his own CEO! I promised to sail him to Gridania, where he will live out his dream of turning Haukke Manor into a haunted attraction! Nashu awaits us at the ferry. So, as you can plainly see, I meant no harm to the Gold Saucer. I only wanted to help a yokai in need.”

Godbrand took a moment to absorb all of his son’s hairbrained scheme. His head lowered and his eyes darkened, causing him to look so threatening that even Manjimutt was quaking a little. Hildibrand maintained his confident, gentlemanly veneer, but even he was beginning to sweat.

Wordlessly, Godbrand put his hands on Hildibrand’s shoulders. Hildibrand felt his spirit leave his body. His father looked up at him, and beamed.

“You should’ve just come to me first, son! Had I known you were interested in starting your own entertainment enterprise, you’d have had my full backing!”

Hildibrand’s soul returned safely to his body, but his smile was wobbly.

“Full glad am I to know there’s no ill will,” he said. “I fear you misheard me, however. This is Manjimutt’s dream, not mine.”

There was a disapproving glare from Godbrand, which threatened to coax Hildy’s soul out again. “Nonsense. Where is the poor dog supposed to scrounge up enough gil for such an endeavor? No, I believe you’ll invest in his project!”

Manjimutt almost showed excitement on his face for once, while Hildibrand’s jaw nearly dropped to the dirt.

“F-Father...I-I would gladly do so had I the funds. However…”

“No excuses. A Manderville man doesn’t do things halfway,  _ especially _ you. Come, I’ll accompany you to Gridania.”

There was no response from Hildibrand. He was frozen like a statue that would fetch a high price in Kugane. Godbrand, seeing his son getting cold feet, decided to pick him up and hold him underneath his right arm.

“Forgive me for my rude outburst earlier, Manjimutt,” Godbrand said. “Let a Manderville man show you how to make it in this dog-eat-dog world.”

With that, the two Manderville men and a canine yo-kai made their way to Gridania.

See you, Inspector...


	5. Nonagenarian

Matoya accepted the cup of tea from one of her fastidious pogoro servants. The pogoro gingerly placed a cup in front of Y’shtola as well, but she didn’t seem to notice. Matoya sipped her tea as Y’shtola tapped her knuckles against her cheek, her expression pensive. Her clouded eyes drifted to her old master, who seemed content with ignoring her pupil’s presence.

“Are you giving it any thought?” Y’shtola asked.

Matoya shook her head, and began narrating as if Y’shtola wasn’t in the room. “Not content with surviving the Lifestream and being one of the first to have her soul transferred between worlds, you seek a way back into the First.” She shakily placed her cup back on its plate. “Shtola, your aether is not a ball of putty. You can’t keep pulling it apart and molding it into new shapes. It’s not so malleable.”

Y’shtola expected a response along those lines. She intended to make good on the promise she made to Runar about eventually returning to the first, but she had no clue where to start. G’raha Tia could offer her little answers, and considering what a frankly abysmal job he did bringing her to the First initially she wasn’t confident in anything he could provide her. Thus, with her tail between her legs, did she seek out her master in hopes she would be willing to provide answers. She wasn’t.

Shtola’s tail flicked, betraying her otherwise natural poker face. “I had hoped such a challenge would pique your interest.”

“You thought wrong. Look at yourself, Shtola. You’ve already blinded yourself taking all these foolish risks. Maybe if you weren’t so eager to dabble in forces beyond your ken, you’d be able to look in a mirror and see how messy your hair looks right now.”

This visit couldn’t have gone any other way. Y’shtola does something reckless, she avoids Matoya for as long as theoretically possible, and when they finally connect again she gets nothing but an earful. A tale as old as their relationship. One that likely would only expire when one of them did.

Matoya returned to her tea. She should be nearly finished with her first cup, Y’shotla thought. She always drank her tea at the same pace, regardless of how much she prattled on. Hearing the tea kettle whistling on the other end of the dark cave, Y’shotla took initiative. She asked the pogoro preparing the tea to allow her to deliver it to the table. The pogoro didn’t object, happy to take a break. Pot in hand, Y’shtola poured more tea for Matoya when she placed her cup down. Matoya didn’t bother looking up.

“Runar would often insist on pouring my tea for me,” Y’shtola mused. “He rarely wanted to leave my side, lest I needed anything. If I so much as showed signs of sneezing, he’d be upon me with a clean cloth to wipe my nose.”

“Obnoxious, isn’t it?”

“Yes, very. He fawned overmuch, and no matter how much I begged, he would never give me the peace and quiet I wanted.”

Y’shtola placed the pot on the table.

“I think I understand why you keep me around.”

With a wink, Y’shtola returned to her seat. Matoya gave a raspy laugh.


	6. Clamor

Considering every semi-noteworthy figure in Eorzea had their own wind-up minion, the production of a Warrior of Light doll seemed wholly inevitable. The Gold Saucer took the initiative of acting on this lucrative idea, but the staff weren’t prepared for just how coveted the doll would wind up being.

The day the Warrior of Light dolls were put on the shelves, Ul’dah regulars as well as travelers from other regions practically stampeded into the establishment. Everyone raced to earn enough MGP to purchase the doll. Triple Triad tables had thirty minute queues, as did every machine in the house, and there were so many participants playing Leap of Faith that players crammed together on tiny platforms, barely able to find footing. Praise the Twelve they all signed a waiver.

Their stock ran low by the afternoon, so they were forced to double the MGP required to purchase the doll. An hour later, they had to go triple. The staff could feel the agitation from patrons growing in the air, but they all seemed willing to pay the price.

“I know the Warrior of Light has her fans,” one staff member grumbled to another, “but doesn’t this seem excessive? Most people didn’t know what she even  _ looked _ like a week ago.”

“Management is hosting a lottery, and the numbers for entry are on the tags on the dolls,” the other explained. “Grand prize is supposed to be a mountain of gil. Plus, they’re limited in quantity. You know how artificial scarcity drives some fanatics mad.”

The first staff member, Vermund, looked at the crowd gathered around the prize counter, pitying the poor sods who had to manage the clamouring crowd. Mainly because he  _ was _ one of those sods.

What did management have to gain from making the Warrior of Light so popular? He wondered if the Warrior of Light had struck a deal with the Mandervilles to bolster her own popularity. He had heard rumors that she and the owner of the Saucer had traveled briefly together. The thought of this being propaganda for an adventurer with heavy connections every city-state alliance and their militaries didn’t sit right with him, but he kept those protests to himself. He needed this job.

As he observed the crowd, he noticed an Elezen girl leave with a Warrior of Light doll in her arms, smiling like a kid at a candy store. As she made her way to the aetheryte plaza, however, a grown man rushed her amidst the chaos and tried to snatch the doll away. Vermund ran over to assist her, calling out to the assailant, but the Elezen girl apparently had things covered. She kneed the man in the crotch before punching him right between the eyes. The attacker was now writhing on the floor, and Vermund was dumbstruck.

“U, Uhm,” he stammered, “are you alright, ma’am?”

“Perfectly fine,” she said, fussing with the hair on her doll. “This is why I normally steer clear of these big opening days. People lose their wits.”

Another staff member came over to take the assailant away, while Vermund broke out the customer service spiel. “I sincerely apologize for the pandemonium, ma’am. Can we make it up to you in any way?”

The Elezen girl looked like she was about to shake her head until she spotted something - or someone - in the distance. Her eyes widened. She suddenly shoved the Warrior of Light doll into Vermund’s hand.

“Hold this for me!” she insisted.

Vermund didn’t have time to protest as an Elezen boy who looked like the girl’s spitting image walked up to them.

“There you are, Alisaie,” he spoke over the crowd. “I see you’ve found the prize counter.”

“Of course!” Alisaie said far too quickly. “I’ve been here before. I should’ve known you’d get lost. A place like this isn’t your scene, Alphinaud.”

Alphinaud chose to ignore that. He turned to Vermund and saw the doll he was holding. “Ah, so this is Robin’s doll. Apologies if my sister caused you any trouble, sir. We heard murmurs that a doll of our friend was being produced and wanted to see for ourselves. Thank you for showing it to her. To think a simple doll would cause this much cacophony…”

Friend? The fabled Warrior of Light was friends with children?

“Of cou-Of course, sir,” Vermund said. “I’m afraid you misunderstand, however. This doll is-”

“Highly sought off,” Alisaie interjected, shooting a sharp glare at the staff. “You should hold onto it tightly, for the time being.”

Alisaie winked. 

_ Oh brother, _ Vermund thought.

“I’d actually quite like one of my own,” Alphinaud admitted, “but you’d have to be mad to fight for one in this chaos.”

“Alisaie? Alphinaud?”

A voice called out for her friends, and everyone was stunned to see that it was the Warrior of Light herself, who looked confused by all the pandemonium.


	7. Lush

Gaia didn’t match my enthusiasm when I showed her my rosewood seedlings. Gardening always looked like so much fun to me, and I thought she might be interested too. But when I proposed that we plant them in the Empty she balked at the idea. She rapid-fired excuse after excuse as to why she couldn’t do it: she wasn’t dressed for the occasion (fair), she was too hungry (okay), she would break a nail (I suppose…), hard work made her too sweaty (oh, come now!).

When I sullenly told her I would make the trip alone, she grimaced and, reluctantly it seemed, said that she would come along if I “stopped making that sad puppy look.” I wasn’t even aware I had such a look, but if it got my friends to do fun things when me, I should try mastering it.

Drives to the Empty were difficult, and a touch lonelier, without Thancred or Urianger to drive us there. Gaia and I weren’t the tallest girls around, and I could barely reach the gas pedal. Yalfort offered to drive us if we ever needed a lift, but I didn’t want to bother him with such a long drive every time we wanted to take a trip. I wanted to be self-sufficient, and I remembered the path pretty well, so I took it upon myself to learn how to drive. Thankfully the Empty was true to its name, otherwise my steering probably would’ve led to some unfortunate accidents.

We hadn’t been to our old encampment in a month. When we arrived, everything remained exactly as we left it, save a few blades of grass that had grown. The progress was disappointingly slow, but Urianger warned us as much. We looked for an area where the soil looked the most fertile and began planting the seedlings. I was beginning to sympathize with Gaia’s first excuse as my white dress was getting covered in grass and dirt stains. Perhaps it was nature’s way of telling me to expand my wardrobe.

The sun was beating down on us as well, and I begged for night to fall to save us from the insufferable heat. I kept my complaints to myself, but Gaia was a lot more vocal, more than enough for the both of us. Despite how difficult gardening wound up being, I was still enjoying my time with Gaia. We were three-quarters of the way through when we decided to take a break. I sat in the grass, looking upon our work with pride. 

“Imagine it, Gaia,” I beamed. “A forest we grew with our own hands is gonna sport right here.”

Gaia sighed. “Who knows if they’ll even take to the soil. If we come back here and these stupid saplings are wilted, I’ll never forgive you for wasting my afternoon.”

“Even if they don’t, you still had fun, right?”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, sure. After this we should play in the sand dunes, or anything else that’ll be hot and dirty and excruciating.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. Gaia tried to look annoyed by this, but I know I saw a lopsided smile. She was definitely having fun.

“You know,” I said,” these rosewood seedlings came from the Source.”

“Really? Robin brought them?”

I nodded. “I asked for seedlings from her world. The Source is the reason the Empty even has a future. I thought that a little part of our friends should be here.”

“To think they did all this work and just up and left us to take care of the rest. Next time, Robin should drive us.”

After we finished planting the rest of the seedlings, I looked across the Empty. I closed my eyes and imagined a thriving woodland where animals grazed and drank from the river. 

“I know we’re working toward the future,” Gaia said, taking me out of my imagination, “but it’s annoying to think we’ll never get to  _ really _ enjoy the fruits of our labor. Depressing, even.”

I didn’t agree.

“I may never live to see a fully prosperous Empty, but I want us to come back when we’re old and find a luscious forest teeming with life. Admiring what I’ve grown with someone precious to me...that sounds like a fulfilled life to me.”

Gaia looked caught off guard. Her cheeks reddened a little, and she once again couldn’t fight off a shy smile, though she tried to hide it. I couldn’t stop staring at that smile. When she started looking at me strangely, I realized just how long I had been staring. I turned away as fast as I could. I’d never felt so embarrassed in my whole life.

“Ryne, you need to get out of the sun. Your face is getting sunburned.”


	8. Avail

Theyler and Vonard catch their breath underneath the shade of one of the Lakeland trees, the sun beating down harsh. The carcasses of the group of bats they had just slain littered the ground around them. Their bags were brimming with bat wings and fangs to present as proof of their conquest. Not exactly a glamorous hunt, the Crystarium guard needed help clearing the bats that were bothering them at the border. The road to being a Warrior of Light involved taking the mundane quests first, right?

“Hey, Theyler?” Vonard panted.

“Yeah?” Theyler panted back.

“Explain to me why we left the guard only to do twice their work with zero the salary?”

“...I’ll tell you later.”

Vonard banged the back of his head against the bark. As eager as he was to help, all the grunt work he was doing was beginning to feel demoralizing. As if the universe itself had sent an ambassador to completely quash his spirit, Lyna strode up to the two. She folded her arms, seemingly a  _ little _ gratified seeing the soldiers that left her so short staffed were suffering for success. Only a little.

“You’re the ones who leapt straight into the world of daring do-good without looking beforehand,” Lyna reminded them. “If it’s too much for you, you’re more than welcome back into the guard.”

Vonard could barely muster an objection. “Don’t kick us while we’re down, Capt’n.”

Lyna chuckled lightly. “On the contrary, I came to thank you. You’ve solved the rest of our bat problem.”

Vonard stood straight up. “You serious?”

“Of course, there were far less of them after Robin and Alisaie took out most of them. But yes, you finished the job.”

“Aw, come on, you could’ve left out that part!”

Not that he would expect any less from the captain. She was a kind soul at heart, but she could be particularly blunt with her officers. Vonard wished he already  _ were  _ a Warrior of Light, so she would no longer see him as just a good soldier that abandoned ship but rather a dependable hero.

Theyler shook his head. “It’s not about being first place, Vonard.”

Vonard was caught off guard by his friend’s sentiment. Theyler looked to his friend with a confidence Vonard was currently lacking. 

“We’re becoming Warriors of Light so that the people of Noverandt may sleep a little easier under the night sky we fought so hard to bring back. We avail ourselves by availing them. If that means going hungry for a while, or taking a backseat more often than not, then so be it.”

Theyler’s words didn’t make Vonard’s bones any less weary, but his spirit needed to hear them. He smirked at his friend. “Yeah...you’re right. Of course you’re right.” He vowed to commit those words to memory, lest he lose himself to delusions of grandeur again.

“In that spirit,” Lyna piped up, “I have more requests for you two. When the brave Warriors of Light have caught their breath, come and see me.”

Lyna turned heel and walked away, her long ears catching hints of conversation between the two Warriors; mostly talks of where they would go next after being her “lap dogs for the day.”

At least they were motivated.


	9. Ultracrepidarian

Even while Elidibus had the Warrior of Darkness caged in a prison of her own bitter memories, she still had the infrangible gall to tell him that they need naught be enemies.

Of course. She was nothing but a fragment of her former glory now, yet this piece, ignorant to the role she had once played, insisted on being bullheaded. She always had to go against the preordained. Perhaps there  _ was _ no Azem without that key component of stubborn persistence. It was practically coded into her aether. If she were whole, Elidibus wondered, would you still be spouting this nonsense about reconciliation? Part of him - no, all of him, hoped that she would be with him.

Elidibus watched the Warrior of Darkness battle with their demons as he pondered the gaps in his memory. He felt as though he could describe Azem quite well, and yet he could not recall their face nor their interactions, aside from an amusing anecdote concerning grapes. His dread increased as the terrible reality that all his most precious memories of the Convocation were slipping from him crept back in. He told himself he couldn’t afford the luxury of doubting his cause. As the heart of Zodiark, he had a mission that was practically coded into his DNA. Regardless of his past life, he knew all he needed to.

At least that’s what he needed to believe to stay sane.

Neither Elidibus or the Warrior of Darkness would ever understand the sheer scope of what they fought for, yet they carried forward their ideals as if everything was crystal clear. What instilled in them that kind of hubris? If Elidibus could get back to his research, he would lock himself in his study until he arrived at the most plausible, scientific answer. Azem would probably scold him for being such a shut-in, wouldn’t they? He wished he knew for sure for sure.

Noticing Elidibus’s guard was down, the Warrior of Darkness shot an blast of dark energy from her greatsword in his direction. He stepped out of the way without batting an eye, the blast instead crashing against Amaurot architecture. He sighed at the foolishness on display. An unfragmented Azem definitely wouldn’t have tried something so obviously pointless, he knew that much.

“Was that earlier talk of ‘understanding each other’ just a ploy to get in my head?” Elidibus asked.

“Did it work?” the Warrior of Darkness retorted with an almost puckish grin.

Silence was the only answer Elidibus could offer. Maybe there was still something rattling in that fragment of a brain.

“If you’re wont for sport, I have more simulacrums waiting for you up ahead.”

Elidibus vanished from her sight and he continued watching from afar. He noticed her pause for a moment upon noticing an Elezen woman she had met during her time in Ishgard. She stood in front of her for a time, her expression forlorn. The melancholy eventually gave way to a look of fiery determination as she marched further into the simulated Amaorut.

~-~

They were nothing but pawns in a game they forgot the rules to. The Warrior of Darkness was never interested in playing.

Yet, somehow, Elidibus knew she was still going to win.


	10. Foibles

If there was one thing about Robin Sitat that Sidurgu hated most, it was her propensity to approach situations as if they were a game to her.

There was no shortage of annoying quips coming out of her mouth at the worst possible times, and she always tended to rush headfirst into danger. He wondered if Fray helped influence her devil-may-care approach to life, but if that were the case Robin would be less irrational and more deliberately antagonistic. She knew when to reign herself in when necessary, but what constituted “necessary” in her mind was anyone’s guess. Sidurgu could hardly begin to comprehend the mind of a woman who has survived more life-threatening battles than any other knight feasibly could. When the world conspires to see you victorious at any cost, perhaps you just naturally develop a warped sense of reality. If she weren’t so godsdamn powerful she likely would’ve gotten herself killed a long time ago.

Well, right now, Robin seemed  _ very  _ disconnected from reality, because her peanut brain convinced her that Rielle was ready to wield a greatsword. She held out a greatsword for Rielle in the Forgotten Knight, surprising both her and Sidguru.

“Made this beaut with some spare materials from Diadem,” Robin boasted, “She’s ergonomic and easy for a novice to wield, but could still cut through this table like it was a nameday cake. I’d demonstrate, but I can’t cover the damages.”

Rielle was hesitant at first to accept the sword. After Sidurgu raised an objection and said it was far too early for Rielle to wield something that dangerous, she practically ripped it out of Robin’s hands. Robin wasn’t kidding about the sword being light. Rielle moved it around so easily that when she raised it she nearly gave Robin a nick on the cheek. Something she profusely apologized for.

“Let’s take it for a spin, shall we?” Robin suggested. She looked to Sidguru, almost daring him to say something about it. Stupid little shite.

Out in Dravania, Robin squatted behind Rielle and guided her hands until she was confident in her stance. Watching Rielle try to wield a greatsword like Sidurgu and Robin did was like watching a newborn chocobo try to flap its wings. Sidurgu just watched in begrudging silence, wondering what possessed Robin to suddenly start a young conjurer on the path.

“This is gonna end with someone’s hand getting chopped off,” Sidurgu insisted. “Just give her a practice sword to start, for hells sake.”

His protests only emboldened Rielle. “Some of us learn quicker by diving in head first,” she said.

“Sure, and some of us aren’t completely delusional.”

Rielle snubbed Sidurgu and worked even harder to perfect her stance. Robin made some comment about becoming the new favorite dark knight.

“Alright,” Robin began, moving in front of Rielle. She produced a small pouch sealed with a yellow ribbon. After opening its contents, she threw the magic powder inside into the air. The powder began coalescing into emerald stars that hovered before Rielle. “First test. Try to cut these stars clean through the middle in one swing.”

Rielle tightened her grip around the hilt of the greatsword before winding up a swing behind her back. She cleaved with all her might at the first star, but only managed to cut off one of its tips.

“You’re trying too hard,” Robin said, shaking her head. “Don’t swing like an executioner. Form over strength.”

Rielle tried again on the second star. She cut off a bit more, but still not center.

“Try imagining you’re bonking Sidurgu on his fat head.”

A third swing.

“Oh, that time was closer!” 

Robin cheered her on,while Sidurgu’s nostrils flared.

Robin summoned another round of emerald stars, but Rielle wanted a minute to collect herself. As Rielle went back to working on her stance, Robin observed next to Sidurgu. Both had their arms crossed, like judges silently waiting for a performance.

“She’s not a child, Sidurgu,” Robin said suddenly. “Rielle can learn to handle herself, and she’s gonna have to.”

Sidurgu exhaled. “I know that. Can’t say I hoped this would be the path she’d take, though. Hells know we haven’t lived the most peaceful lives.”

The same could be said for Rielle, too. None of them are exactly free from their past demons. Perhaps he shouldn’t consider darkness to be an alien concept for her.

Rielle prepared another swing at an emerald star. This time there was a perfect cut down the middle. In a fit of excitement, she dropped the greatsword and shouted “I did it!” over and over. Robin gave her a rounding applause. Even Sidurgu, for all his apprehension, couldn’t help but shoot Rielle a thumbs up and a half smile.

“It’s a start, I guess,” he said.

Robin nodded. “I knew once you saw how sure of herself Rielle looked, you’d start coming around.”

All a part of her game, huh? This is exactly what Sidurgu was talking about before.

“You know, for a bleedin’ idiot, you’ve got an annoying habit for being three steps ahead of everyone.”

“No, Sidurgu, you’re just always two steps behind the bigger picture.”

Sidurgu called out to Rielle, compelling her to aim for Robin’s neck next.


	11. Part

Drawing back her maple longbow, Roicete aimed her arrow at the bullseye she painted onto an oak tree. Her fingers gripped the shaft of the arrow a little too tight, almost afraid to let it loose. This was her last one. Now or never, she thought. She took a measured breath and prayed to the Twelveswood to guide her hand. 

Roicete finally released the arrow, which wound up curving downward and piercing the bark just under the bullseye. Same as the other ten arrows that she had released prior. She growled low, not even bothering to see if any of the arrows were salvageable for another attempt. 

This was an hour into her Bullseye game, and she was getting bored. She assumed her older sister, Anine, would have returned already. Anine had been talking with the man from the Twin Adder at a nearby bar for about as long as she had been practicing her shot. When Roicete asked what the man wanted, her sister simply petted her long hair and told her that she'll be back soon. Roicete hated that when her sister did that, and she did that every time. If she had any sort of nerve she would bite her sister’s hand whenever she motioned toward her. 

Roicete was almost nineteen summers and was beginning to reach her growth spurt, but she was still as docile as a lamb. No matter how hard she tried to change herself, she could never find confidence, as if being a doormat was written into her aether. Maybe Anine would never see her as a grown woman until she finally started acting bold.

Maybe storming in on her little meeting would be seen as “bold”.

Emboldened, Roicete decided to make her way to the bar. Like most sudden bursts of courage, however, they faltered quickly. When she actually stood outside the bar, she froze. She realized she had had idea what she’d say or do when she found her sister. Impulsiveness was another unfortunate failing of Roicete’s personality.

Roicete considered turning back when she heard a man shout from inside the bar. She couldn’t make out everything he said, but he mentioned he wouldn’t let someone “make an ass out of him” and that he’ll return for that person soon. Seconds later, the Twin Adder man from earlier stormed out of the bar, looking furious. He and Roicete met face-to-face, and the latter felt her breath escape her.

Realizing he was scaring an innocent bystander, the Twin Adder man tried to compose himself. “Excuse me, miss,” he said, though his face was still stern. With that, he took his leave.

A few moments later, Anine also walked out of the bar. She seemed pensive, a hint of dread in her eyes, before spotting her little sister and gasping as if she had just been jumpscared.

“Roicete?” she said. “Hells, girl, what’re you standing out here for?” She raised her voice with that last sentence. 

Roicete shrinked. “I just...You were talking a while, so I was checking on you.” 

Anine pinched the bridge of her nose. “I’m  _ fine _ , Roicete. Can I not be left alone for an hour?”

“Sorry…” Roicete whispered. So much for being an adult.

The two of them didn’t speak a word to each other as they made their way back home. Roicete desperately wanted to know why the Twin Adder man was so upset earlier, but she knew Anine would probably tell her it was none of her business. When their parents were still alive, they would always tell each other everything. Nowadays they felt more like complete strangers.

When they returned, Anine noticed the homemade target practice Roicete had set up. Her face finally began to soften when she saw where the arrows landed. “Where did you shoot from?” she asked.

Roicete pointed to a spot a few yalms away, near a tree where her shortbow rested. 

“Not bad for that distance. A few ilms closer and I’m sure you’d have gotten a bullseye.”

“I know I can,” Roicete explained. “I’m challenging myself a little. What if the test has me shooting even farther?”

“I know Elezen who couldn’t hit the ass of a behemoth who got into the Arhcer’s Guild. Try doing some positive thinking for a change, Roicete. You’ll get worry lines at this rate.”

Anine laughed a little as she said this, which only made Roicete feel smaller. At least Anine wasn’t angry anymore, but she still couldn’t look her in the eye.

“I don’t want to get by doing the bare minimum. If I join the guild I’m gonna have to fight monsters and bandits some day. I...don’t know if I can handle that yet with my aim.”

Archery was one of Roicete’s new passions following her parents’ passing. Being an archer started out as a hobby, but as she grew older she realized she needed to monetize her skills. She hoped that one day she could join the Archer’s Guild in hopes of earning some gil for her and her sister. Currently, Anine supported the both of them as best she could working as a stablehand at the chocobo ranch. Roicete hoped to ease that burden for her.

Why she started taking up a discipline of war specifically, however, was part of her currently fruitless attempts at forcing herself to be brave. Seeing real combat might be just what she needed to light a fire underneath her. Might be. It was an extreme way to build character, but nothing else was working for her.

Applicants were being accepted tomorrow, and signing up meant having to leave her sister behind and fend for herself in the guild. Her dread increased as the time grew closer.

“Maybe this was a mistake,” Roicete thought aloud. “I know when I see a monster out in the wild I’m gonna freeze up and get killed. Maybe the Leatherworker’s Guild has an opening instead…”

Anine smirked and ran her hair through Roicete’s hair. 

“Ever the dainty robin.”

Roicete winced. You nurse  _ one _ bird back to health in your childhood and you get stuck with a silly nickname for life. She wasn’t in the mood for the playfulness.

“Anine,” Roicete sighed. “I’m...worried.”

“You’ve worked hard for this. Stop worrying.”

“I’m not worried about me.”

There was a silence. Anine didn’t let her smirk waver.

“Why won’t you talk to me?” Roicete pleaded.

“I promise I’ll tell you everything soon. When you get into the Archer’s Guild I’ll come to visit. I expect to see a new you when I do!”

Roicete just hoped she would get to see Anine again in general.


	12. Ache

When the Calamity hit, there was no escape from Gridania. Roicete was trapped with everyone else, and her sister was out in the woods somewhere amidst all that chaos

Nobody slept a wink that night as women and children took shelter while the Twin Adder and war discipline guilds worked to keep the fires and damage under control. Roicete helped as best she could, but the pessimistic part of her mind distracted her as it envisioned all the ways her sister could be in danger. A louder part of her mind was cursing herself for abandoning her sister so that she could learn to be self-sufficient as an archer.

_ You’d have just gotten in the way if you stayed with her, _ an insecure part of her mind whimpered.

_ I’m not going to die until I see her again,  _ a willful part of her mind retorted.

Morning rose, but the sky didn’t look any less foreboding. Smoke and flame made the air thin and the sky an ugly orange color, and there were still fires raging in parts of Gridania that needed to be put out. The Twin Adder managed to secure a route out of Gridania, but advised everyone that evacuation was currently ill-advised. Roicete, of course, left as soon as she could.

She was run ragged, but that didn’t stop her from sprinting to the chocobo stables at full speed like a woman possessed. The stables were now a pile of charred oak and singed chocobo feathers, the smell of brimstone and blood thick. Dread began seeping deeper into Roicete’s tired bones as she searched for someone - _anyone_ \- who worked at the stables who was still there. Eventually, she found someone: a stablehand who seemed to have lost the color in her eyes and was staring listlessly at the rubble. 

“Where is Anine?” Roicete shouted at her suddenly, too panicked to consider what she was going through.

“Anine…?” The stablehand spoke as if she was just a thousand yalms away. Without warning, tears started streaming down her face. “We were, we were working like normal...Anine, she was tending to the chocobo…”

_ No...don’t say it. _

“The,” the stablehand choked. “the sky began raining fire.”

_ Stop, stop,  _ **_stop._ **

“Anine was still in there when-”

“Please,” Roicete whimpered. Everything collapsed on her at once, and she began sobbing. “Please don’t say it.”

There was nothing left. Her parents were gone, her sister was gone, and the entire world was literally up in smoke. She couldn’t imagine the world carrying on after that moment, like the Twelve themselves had announced that this was the end of everything. Whatever she felt before that moment, it didn’t matter. It never mattered.

The two women stood there in tears, broken and aching, like the rest of the Eorzea.

“Roicete, you don’t have to leave,” the guildmaster pleaded.

Of course she did. Roicete pakced the few belongings that she still possessed after the Calamity. She could understand why the guildmaster didn’t want her to leave. The guild was running on fumes after the Calamity. Only a month had passed and they were currently short-staffed. Too many were lost to the moon that night. By process of elimination, Roicete was now the most capable person at the guild. She did feel some guilt leaving them at such a bad time, but she couldn’t stay.

“This is a new era now,” Roicete said. “Why sort through the rubble when you can start from scratch?”

This was as defiant the guildmaster had ever seen Roicete. She really did seem like a new person, but the same could probably be said of everyone who survived. In reality, Roicete was still as anxious about leaving the guild as she was about first entering it. Perhaps the Calamity was that fire she needed to at least fake confidence. She just wished it didn’t have to be so literal.

“If you’re dead set, I won’t stop you,” the guildmaster sighed. He then smiled wearily. “Seems like yesterday you were a shaking little sapling who could barely keep her bow from shaking.”

Roicete laughed. “Remember the face you made when I somehow hit all my targets with my wobbly knees?”

“Still haven’t seen anything like it since. That aim of yours is gonna carry you far in the adventurer business. Just make sure townsfolk pay you a fair rate, okay? People love taking advantage of fledglings.”

Roicete nodded. They stood there in awkward silence for a moment, Roicete rocking back and forth on her feet. Eventually, she leaned in to give the guildmaster a quick hug. “Thanks for everything.”

Before the guildmaster could reciprocate, Roicete began striding away. The guildmaster tried to see her off with a smile. She turned around, slamming her fist into her palm and shouting:

“Soon you’ll hear the name Robin Sitat everywhere!”

Robin drew back her bowstring and released an arrow at one of the training dummies behind the Rising Stones. Another direct shot to the head, one of twenty. She still had it. As she reached for another arrow in her quiver, she noticed G’raha Tia approaching her.

“Thinking of taking up the bow again, are you?” G’raha inquired.

Robin shook her head, sheathing her bow. “One of the Scions wanted some bow training and asked me for a lesson. Wanted to make sure I hadn’t rusted first, though. Don’t think I’ll ever  _ really _ go back to barding. Dancing is just too powerful, and I’ve gotten too great with a greatsword. If I could channel my dark, tortured energy into an arrow, though, maybe I’d give it some thought.”

G’raha frowned. “Ah yes, I forgot that was how your discipline worked…”

Seemed that joke didn’t land well with audiences that weren’t dark knights.

“Your new vocations are indeed quite powerful, but I can’t help getting nostalgic seeing you with a bow. Your arrow-slinging is the very reason we were able to reclaim the Crystal Tower.”

Come to think of it, Robin thought, taking the tower was the last time she ever used a bow. After she was framed and retreated to Ishgard, she found Fray’s crystal.

“If you don’t mind my asking, what compelled you to trade the bow for a sword and chakrams?”

Robin wanted to say she naturally drifted to superior jobs. But as she thought back to the start of her journey, going from Archer’s Guild trainee to fledgling adventurer, she realized something.

“Archery was the last part of myself I hadn’t killed yet,” she said.

G’raha’s eyes widened a little at such a grim response. She didn’t plan to sound so ominous. The words just came out that way.

“It’s a little difficult to explain. I’ll tell you the whole story one day, promise.”

G’raha relaxed, smiling at her. “I’ll look forward to that day, friend.”


	13. Tooth and Nail

Robin let out a haggard roar as she swung her greatsword to meet Zenos’s katana. They traded several blows, and while Robin put the full force of her weight behind each swing, Zenos seemed to be barely exerting any effort. Noticing a gap in Robin’s defenses, Zenos decided to end this charade by fiercely striking at Robin’s torso. Her armor shielded her from what could’ve been a deadly blow, but her sword clattered on the ground as she lay on the ground, defeated. Zenos’s blade was shattered by the attack. He discarded his weapon without a moment’s thought.

“Pathetic,” he jeered. Seeing the resistance’s pathetic resistance burning to ash, he felt no reason to linger or even finish off the stragglers. He was horribly bored. Together with his comrades, he left the reach, now a burning pile of wreckage and death.

Robin’s vision faded in and out and she tried to force herself up, getting so far as taking a knee. She clutched her chest, blood staining her gauntlet, spitting as her mind reeled, a familiar voice shouting in her head:

_ “We did  _ everything  _ right. Everything that was asked of us and still...still it came to this!” _

Just as her consciousness began to slip away, her wounds started closing and aches were soothed as a familiar glow enveloped her. Raubahn and several members of the Twin Adder had come to pick up the pieces of their failure. A conjurer cast healing magic on Robin as Raubhan lowered himself to her level, whatever concern he might’ve felt masked by his ever-present scowl.

“Are you alright, lass?”

Of course she wasn’t. She wanted to yell that right in his face, to kick and scream and holler over letting what might one of the most decisive battles in the war end in humiliation and wanton death. But she hadn’t the energy nor the time.

“I’ll live,” was all she said, though her breath hitched.

She swallowed deep, forcing herself onto her feet and looked upon the destruction. Countless man hours of hard work burned before her. Soldiers were being hastily carried to the infirmary, some wrapped in white sheets and brought over gently. The burning structures could be replaced, but their men could not. How many more scenes like this will Zenos create throughout Ala Mhigo because they lost today? Ala Mhigans, Garleans, innocent bystanders...so much unnecessary bloodshed could’ve been avoided if she had just arrived a little sooner. Hadn’t been so weak.

Robin stammered to the infirmary herself, a right she had to fight for as Raubhan insisted that a medic help her the moment he saw her start to stagger. Their magic would be better spent on someone other than her. She asked around the infirmary about her friends. She was told Y’shtola was in critical condition and was currently being looked at. Another meltdown threatened to rear its head, her vision blurring for a moment as vertigo set back in.  _ Please be alright, Y’shtola _ , was all that went through her throbbing head.

Everyone at the infirmary insisted she lay down. Ignoring them, she retrieved a lime green soul stone from her possessions. Her skills with conjury were a little amateurish, but they were something. She begged the medics to point her where she was needed. Reluctantly, they directed her to the field to give soldiers aid.

Robin rushed over to help an injured male Ala Mhigan soldier. He pressed his gauntlet against a large gash on his side, but the blood still flowed too quickly. Robin began casting her healing magic, but as much as it eased the pain, he still needed immediate medical attention that her magic couldn’t provide. She turned to call for help, but she stopped when the soldier grasped his hand in her’s. He seemed strangely at peace, perhaps addled by intense amounts of healing magic.

“I,” he said, “didn’t think it’d feel this nice...”

His hand went limp with the rest of his body, his pulse ceasing. Robin continued holding his hand in both of her’s, hanging her head and letting every tear she had held back for the most month flow unfiltered. 

In Robin’s pocket, the Dark Knight crystal began to crack down the middle.


	14. Shuffle

Ranaa huddled in front of the fireplace in her Ishgardian inn room. She was thankful to have finally shed her dancer’s casque for more casual, warmer attire, after enduring the harsh winter winds of Dravania for so long. The heat was a welcome change, but the almost colorless interior of her room left something to be desired. Ishgard was a war-torn city, she was aware, but she figured with so many affluent Elezens still living within its walls they could afford to gussy up their tourist spots a little better. She ached to return to Limsa Lominsa, or at least wished the Totentanz had chosen a sunnier spot to corrupt the hearts of the vulnerable.  _ C’est la vie _ . 

_ Eorzea is counting on you _ , she reminded herself.  _ Don’t lose focus now. _

Her dance partner next door was probably faring better than her. They had spent a considerable amount of time in Ishgard as a ward, if she recalled correctly. Ranaa looked out her window. Was it terribly late now, or did Ishgard just look dark and foreboding at all hours of the day? Her mind was still racing with thoughts of tomorrow’s battle, and the atmosphere did little to put her at ease. Exhaustion wasn’t setting in.

She wondered if her partner was awake, or even receptive to company at this hour. Only one way to find out.

Arriving at Robin Sitat’s door, Ranaa ever-so-lightly rapped on the door. No response. She rapped a little louder. This time, she heard footsteps. She prayed to the Holy See that she didn’t just wake her. Maybe this was a mistake.

Robin opened the door, staring down at the Miqo’te with a vacant look. At least she didn’t seem tired.

“Something wrong?” Robin said, her tone direct. “Did some crazed dancers show up?”

“Thank goodness no,” Ranaa assured her. “I was just...well, I was wondering how you were faring.”

“I’m fine.” 

As plainspoken as before. Her curtness caught Ranaa off-guard, and the two stood in awkward silence. She remembered when Robin was far more expressive and compassionate when she first enlisted into the troupe. Nowadys she put in the bare minimum, which, in all fairness, was still asking a lot given the perilous task ahead of them. Ranaa still wondered where tht old passion went, and how best to stoke that fire back in her.

“I hope I didn’t wake you,” she said. “I’m having a little trouble falling asleep, myself.”

Robin crinkled her nose. “Find something to tire yourself out,” she suggested. “Exercise, jump on the bed, whatever.”

Ranaa’s ears twitched. Now  _ there  _ was a thought. “Good idea! The two of us could practice our dancing for tomorrow’s performance!”

Robin leaned against her door frame, exhaling deep. She considered just shutting the door with her foot, but unfortunately Ranaa had the right of it. Their steps needed to be perfectly in sync tomorrow, lest Ishgard suffered its fifty-seventh tragedy, and its first to be actually unwarranted.

“I’ll be right out,” Robin said, promptly closing the door.

Ranaa exhaled, the tension her body held throughout that entire conversation easing up. When Robin acts so cold and indifferent, the reality sinks in that she’s slayed more powerful primals than Ranaa could count on both hands. One false move around her and you could be blinked out of existence.

Clearly Robin’s heart wasn’t fully invested in the spirit of dance. If they were to do their best tomorrow, Ranaa had to step up and fix that.

The casual clothes they wore restricted their full range of movement, but that didn’t stop Ranaa from spinning her arms like windmills while dancing in the harsh Coerthas snow. She would freeze to death on the spot if she didn’t.

While Ranaa was putting her heart and soul into her performance, despite only having a half-interested audience of one, Robin looked like she was going through the motions. Her dance moves were within acceptable bounds for combat; she could easily take out any corrupt aether if she used those steps. Yet everything about the way she shuffled her feet, waved her arms, and moved her hips felt depressingly sterile.

Master Nashmeira expected the best from her pupils. If she wasn’t here to light a fire under Robin’s feet, Ranaa would have to channel her instructor’s truehearted spirit and lead in her stead. Ranaa ceased her dancing, sheathed her chakrams on her hips and clapped loud enough for Robin to pay attention to her.

“Use your full range of motion, Robin,” Ranaa shouted, trying her best to look stern. “If you’re not sweating, your heart’s not in it!”

Her pep talk was met with an eye roll from Robin, who went back to rotating her chakrams around her like a windmill. She was still as lifeless as willow lumber. Time for plan B.

Ranaa continued her own dancing, twirling ever closer to Robin until they were close enough to each other that the Warrior of Light could not feasibly throw around her chakrams without getting her friend hurt. Now that Ranaa had her undivided attention, she wasn’t sure what the next step was, but she trusted her body could do the rest.

She tapped her feet to her own rhythm before smoothly motioning for Robin to mimic her movement. There was no chance of her dance partner letting her off the hook, so Robin acquiesced, mimicking the foot movement flawlessly. Next, Ranaa started with more tap dancing before doing a 360 degree twirl in the air. Robin did this easily too.

Continuing with the theme of twirling, Ranaa began to spin on one leg. She gained enough momentum until she was like a drill ready to pierce the ground, then leaned stretching her left leg back and making her torso parallel to it, spinning on her right leg with the balance of a professional skater. Robin looked sincerely impressed. She tried to copy the movement, but couldn’t build enough speed to get it right. Ranaa grinned after having finally bested the Warrior of Light.

“No sleeping until we get this right,” she said with a wink.

The two spent upwards of an hour trying to get Robin to perform the spin technique. There were many tumbles and bruises and lessons in flexibility as they conducted attempt after attempt. There was plenty of cursing, and plenty of laughter, leading up to the two finally pulling off the technique in unison. Once they were finished, they sat exhausted in the Coerthas snow. 

“Well,” Robin panted. “That’ll make a fun party trick.”

Ranaa was catching her breath as well, but still snuck in a laugh. “We’re Troupe Falsiam, Robin. We  _ are _ the party trick.”

Robin seemed to be in better spirits for a moment, but whatever Ranaa said seemed to drag her back into stupor.

“This isn’t a party tour, Ranaa,” Robin said, her tone serious. “People could die tomorrow.”

Ranaa nodded. “I know. That’s why I want you to put your heart and soul into your movements, so that the Totentanz won’t stand a chance.”

“You’re confident you’ll do well?”

With a hearty pat on her chest, Ranaa smiled. “Dancing is in my blood!”

Robin stared at the snow, her expression pained. “What if that blood isn’t enough? What if, no matter how sure you are, or how much you train, or how much support you have, you lose. People will die, and continue being killed. And it’s your fault.” Her voice shook as she sank deeper into subconscious. “No amount of dancing can repair the damage or a life lost, yet you’re still expected to dance. Dance until your legs break, and you’re writhing on the floor, useless, as everyone expects you to get back up. You  _ have  _ to get back up, even if it kills you, and at this rate...”

She stopped, now trembling despite the sweat on her brow. Ranaa was at a loss. Normally, she had a knack for cheering people up, but what Ranaa glimpsed was something too serious for a saucy dance or some mawkish one-liner to calm. 

“What if we’re not enough?” Robin asked.

The only thing Ranaa could really do was answer the question in earnest.

“I’ll be disappointed in myself,” she said honestly. “Troupe Falsiam doesn’t further their craft with the intention to fail.” She paused, trying to reach inward for the right words. “Still...I’ve given crummy performances, or broken my ankle before. I’m not perfect. I fail sometimes, as we all do.”

“Failure is less cute when lives on the line,” Robin interjected.

“Aye, so it is…” It’s not like Ranaa wanted to say it would be okay if they failed tomorrow, but what else was she supposed to tell her? She didn’t really understand what motivated Robin to do what she does. Why did she risk her life for Eorzea? What kept her charging back into adventure? Surely something compelled beyond happenstance. She decided to ask her.

Robin considered the question. She looked wistful, as if remembering simpler times. “I wanted to go on adventurers and help people, like any bright-eyed kid who thinks they can make a difference.”

“Do you enjoy doing those things?”

“I’m...not sure I’ve thought about it. I’ve gotten so used to keeping myself busy I’ve never really sat down and talked about it.”

Now that she mentions it, Ranaa really hasn’t heard Robin talk about herself much since joining the troupe. Most information she had on her was gathered through newsletters, bards and hearsay. 

Ranaa hugged her knees and leaned in. “Well then, perhaps you should tell people who Robin Sitat really is. Start with me, your faithful dance partner.”

Seeing how expectant Ranaa looked, Robin felt like she was under a microscope. Then again, she always felt like that It was just the two of them, and there was nothing presently urgent. She let her guard down, just for the night, and talked about herself more that night than she probably had in years.

“That was exhilarating!” Ranaa shouted after her dance duet with Robin. 

Many moons passed, and when Ranaa was facing new challenges that sowed doubt in her, Robin appeared again after having disappeared for so long. Ranaa needed guidance, and Robin knew that she only spoke one language.

When the two finished dancing, Ranaa’s anxieties about leading the troupe to Kugane all but melted away. She felt like she could take on Eorzea, Kugane, wherever Troupe Falsiam would perform next. No matter how many responsibilities she took on, dance would see her through to the end.

Robin matched Ranaa’s beaming enthusiasm. She recalled that cold night in Ishgard, where they shared another unforgettable dance. Where she remembered herself.

_ If you ever lose your way, Ranaa, I’ll be there for you,  _ she thought. _ Same way you were for me. _


	15. Argy-Bargy

Robin knew the Scions could probably contract some other experienced carpenter to fix the wobbly chair in the Rising Stones, but she decided to take matters into her own hands. The wobble bothered her to no end, and she already had her tools on hand. Besides, after being away from Eorzea for so long, she was itching to get back to working on furniture. Carpentry was one of the few things that helped her relax, alongside pet grooming and intense gambling sessions.

However, the noisy bickering of the Leveilleur by the entrance of the Stones made it difficult for her to zen out with her tinkering.

“You’re the only one who cares about what happened to the cargo, Alphinaud!” Alisaie barked. “We were asked to protect the dignitary on board, and we did!”

Alphinaud crossed his arms. “If you hadn’t acted as your usual pigheaded self and stuck to my original plan, we could have saved the passenger  _ and  _ the cart. There was no reason to charge in when you did.”

“I’ve seen enough combat to trust my judgement. Sorry to burst your bubble, but not every battle can be mapped out ahead of time.”

“If you reserved even the tiniest portion of your mind to understanding strategy, you’d understand that there’s more to battle than hurling fireballs around until the opposition gives up!”

“Works pretty well from where I stand!”

This back-and-forth persisted until Robin finally cracked. She strode towards the twins and grabbed them by their long ears like a scorned mother, dragging them out into Revenant’s Toll as they protested and struggled all the while. She let go of their ears and pushed them and they staggered forward. They glared and yelled at Robin, both asking what had gotten into her.

“Shut it!” Robin shouted. The twins complied. “The entire Toll could hear you two! We all have more important things to do in there than listen to two teenagers arguing. You two play  _ way _ too important a role here to act like children. Figure out how to settle your differences quietly, or take it outside. I don’t care which, just let me fix my chairs in  _ peace _ !”

After punctuating that last word so loudly that the adventurers near her turned their heads, she stormed back into the Stones. The twins stood there in awkward silence for a moment, feeling their cheeks burning as eyes fell upon them. 

“She raises a valid point,” Alphinaud said begrudgingly. “Surely we can handle this like adults.”

Alisaie, who was talking a malm a minute before, was now stubbornly silent. This was progress, Alphinaud thought, since this meant he could actually get his ideas out without her yelling over him.

He continued, “Let us address our concerns with the mission individually and work together to determine how best to synergize in the future.”

“Or,” Alisaie began, a wicked smile suddenly forming, “we could settle our superiority with a contest. Whichever one of us wins will follow the winner’s directives in the next mission!”

Alphinaud should’ve known he’d continued to be ignored. “Perhaps I should’ve specified that I wanted us to act like  _ mature _ adults, not two drunks in a tavern settling their drunken arguments by brawling.”

“Diplomacy is your expertise, Alphinaud, not mine. I keep telling you, not everything can be solved with words.”

More like you avoid using your head as much as possible, Alphinaud thought. He’d get slugged in the arm if he said it out loud. In all honesty, he wanted to put this whole argument to bed, and he wouldn’t mind having Alisaie be forced to listen to him for a change.

“Fine. Let us find someone to officiate our contest.”

G’raha Tia figured he’d be doing a lot of important work once he joined the Scions, but he’s found himself with ample amounts of free time as they struggled to find anything for him to do. Thus, he was forced to take on odd jobs, like acting as a mediator for a sibling rivalry. He stood at the outskirts of Revenant’s Toll with the twins. This wasn’t where he wanted to spend his afternoon, but it beat sitting around bored in the Stones, he supposed.

“Alright,” G’raha began, pointing to a giant crystal down the path in front of them. “The rules are simple. You are to run from that crystal in the distance and then back to me. The first to reach the goal will be victorious. Keep it clean, and know that I’ll be keeping a sharp eye on both of you.”

Alisaie swaggered forward with confidence before taking her starting position. “You could give up now, Alphinaud, before you wind up a puddle of sweat.”

Alphinaud took his position, unfazed. “You may be faster than me in water, but on land we’re equally matched.”

G’raha raised his arm. The two twins were ready to spring forward. Once G’raha gave the signal, they were off.

The two were neck-and-neck until about halfway toward the crystal. They were both conserving their energy until they reached the crystal checkpoint and were prepared to make a mad dash afterward. Alisaie knew her stamina exceeded her brother’s, but he was proving surprisingly tricky to speed past.

Alisaie, realizing that nice Elezens finished last, decided to move closer to her brother. Trying to make it look like an accident, she rammed him from the side in order to topple him over, a gambit which worked like a charm. She now had a comfortable lead as she left him in the dust.

Alphinuad picked his face up from the dirt. That’s how she wanted to do this, then? 

He got back on his feet, sprinting to catch up. Both of his hands were in front of him, so he could conjure something with G’raha noticing. Alisaie was getting close to the crystal when she noticed a small animal cross her path. She attempted to hurdle over it, but the road she was on was steep, and when she tried landing she lost her footing and tumbled forward past the crystal. When she looked backward, she saw that the animal she just leaped over was an emerald carbuncle. Her brother touched the crystal and began running back.

Smiling at his own cunning, Alphniaud assured himself he had the competition in the bag. However, he soon heard something approach him at dangerous speeds. When he turned around, he saw Alisaie bolting toward him, her face burning red as it looked like she looked ready to tackle him. And that’s exactly what she did.

The two began wrestling and scraping on the dirt road. More precisely, Alisaie was punching her brother repeatedly as he shielded his face while trying escape from her grasp. This went on for far too long. They only stopped when G’raha walked up to them, his disappointment immeasurable and his day ruined.

“You’re both disqualified,” he said. “When you’re done hating each other, pray return to the Rising Stones.”

As G’raha walked off, it sunk in for the twins that they had reached an all-time low. Alisaie got off of her brother and helped him up. The emerald carbuncle trotted up from behind them.

“We’re too old for this,” Alisaie sighed.

“Indeed.”

“Maybe, just this once, we could try actually  _ talking  _ things out.”

“Oh, alright...So long as you understand half of it’s gonna go out the other ear.”

“So long as you try, sister,” Alphinaud said. “So long as you try.”


	16. Where the Heart Is

Since our joining, I felt devoid of what little sensation I clung on to in my aetherial state. I was aware, but not anywhere. The only thing left was you, your actions, your emotions, your will. I allowed myself to become intertwined with them, let myself finally be at peace as you carried on our will. Yet as I rest in your soul, I began to notice a separate presence. Dark, but not malicious. 

“Ardbert, was it?” The voice one day called out to me. “You have my thanks.”

‘Who are you?’ I thought to respond. The answer popped into my mind as if it had always been there. “What for, Fray?” I asked them.

“You’re the only one who truly understood her. You achieved what I failed.”

I wasn’t even trying to achieve that in the first place. As a spirit only she could see, it felt natural that we would bond with one another. I trusted her, wanted her to carry on and succeed and I failed. But by the end, there wound up being more to our connection that mere happenstance.

Still, I didn’t join with Robin because we happened to be two parts of one whole. I gew to care about her more than just another Warrior of Light. If my life was already spent, I wanted to give myself to her.

“I think you give yourself far too little credit, friend,” I finally responded. “I think you’ve done more for her than I.”

Fray scoffed. “All I did was give her a kick in the arse. It bothered me taking backseat to a doormat.”

I laughed. “I can see where she gets her spirit from!”

“Hells no, it’s not me. It was always inside of her. I just wanted to help her realize that. Realize that...she deserves to be heard. ...Loved.”

Our aether began to feel less strange melded with the other. We were the same. We were both Robin’s.

~-~

“Happy birthday, Robin!”

Robin sat in front of her nameday cake that Tataru poured her heart and soul into. The Scions in attendance - Tataru, Krile, G’raha Tia, Alphinaud and Alisaie - cheered and popped off their party poppers.

“I love it. Thanks, guys,” Robin whispered, seemingly overwhelmed. She couldn’t tell why, at first, until she heard their voices. She stared down at the cake, the light of the candles growing misty as tears began to blur her vision.

Tataru was the first to notice, and reacted in overdramatic fashion. “What’s wrong, Robin? Do you not like this flavor? Are you sad the others aren’t here? I’ll drag Thancred here by his stupid coattails if I have to!”

Robin merely shook her head, smiling brightly. Lovingly.

“No, Tataru, I have everything. Everything I need.”


	17. Beam

Revenant’s Toll was bustling more than usual that morning. It was a lovely morning, the Thanalan sun kissing Tataru’s fair skin, the frisky little ball of fire that it was. Tataru was happy she chose that day to eschew her usual busy bee lifestyle and enjoy a nice day off. Unfortunately, just as she exited the Rising Stones and inhaled the fresh, industrialized air, the day took a sour, sinister turn.

Black clouds suddenly cloaked the Toll in darkness. Clamors of confusion filled the area as a shadowy portal manifested above the aetheryte crystal in the center of the square. Emerging from its black fog was a female Ascian, who hovered down onto the tip of aetheryte crystal with poise. Although she donned the signature crimson mask of an Ascian, her clothing was far more revealing than the usual dark cloak look they sported, showing off a curvy and well-endowed body. The onlooking adventures responded in shock, some of them perhaps with conflicted arousal.

Tataru gasped at the Ascian. “Madame Sia!”

Madame Sia responded to Tataru’s cry with a haughty laugh, her hand posed vertically to the side of her face. “Surprised to see me, Champion of Nald’thal? Your attempts to seal me away are so adorable, but like a Calamity onto the Source my arrival is always inevitable.”

Tataru tried to save face and composed herself, placing her hands on her hips and putting on her poker face. “You escape from the auracite and decide to head straight to our headquarters? Rather bold, even for you, Sia.”

“Dear Champion, you’re not living if you’re not living boldly!” Sia savored every syllable as she spoke, her hand nestled underneath her perfect jawline. “Besides, I thought you might wish to meet my new pet.”

With a snap of her fingers, a vortex of flame suddenly swirls down from beyond the dark clouds. The fire raged, turning up the heat in the Toll so fiercely that Tataru could practically feel her face melting off. The adventurers that were in attendance quickly fled the scene at the sight of such devastating power. Soon, the flames burst and scattered in the wind, revealing a terrifying orange-scaled beast with great horns and sharp flaming claws.

Tataru recognized it right away, and reacted appropriately stunned. “By the Twelve! Ifrit!”

Sia leapt into the air like a dragoon and landed onto the back of the beast. She knelt down and tenderly stroked the top of its head. “Indeed, he’s my new cuddly little pet,” she cooed. “And with the power of an eikon at my disposal---”

Sia stood up, her face and tone suddenly flaring with a fury as raging as Ifrit’s fire.

“---you and yours will finally be turned to ash!”

Ifrit let out a beastial roar. Tataru was nearly blown back by the power the eikon exerted, but she refused to falter. She reached into the bag she carried and took out a magical tome. The tome opened, flipping through its pages as though the wind was blowing them. The aether bestowed on Tataru by the Twelve flowed within.

“Mighty Twelve, shine upon me thine light! By thine power, I art evil’s blight!”

Emanating from the tome, a brilliant beacon of bright red light began to engulf Tataru, meshing with her aetherial composition. Her entire body glowed the selfsame color. Her outfit faded as it was soon replaced with a sailor uniform, complete with a bright red skirt, boots, collar and jewelry. From the light also emerged a bright red wisp that began to take the corporeal form of a carbuncle. The red light faded off the two, and there stood one of the Twelve’s chosen Champions: the Champion of Nald’thal, as well as her familiar with a similar moniker to the god of commerce.

Nald’thal wasn’t briefed on the situation. While it initially seemed ready to engage in combat, it grimaced upon realizing their opponent was the mighty eikon Ifrit.

“Hey, Taru,” Nald’thal said, its voice quaking, “you know I always got’cher back, but I think the two of us’ll be flambe if we take this thing on alone!”

“Nald’thal, your element is fire for Fury’s sake!” Tararu shot back. “We’ll be fine!” 

Sia politely waited for the transformation sequence to end, as was custom, but now she was done waiting. “Incinerate them, my pet!” she called, pointing toward her target.

Ifrit held up his hand, conjuring three orbs of fire. The eikon then flung them at Tataru and her familiar. Thanks to the special link it and Tataru shared, Nald’thal was able to carry out the commands issued by its Champion without verbal communication. Nald’thal unleashed fire spells of its own by Tataru’s will, blowing up two of the fire orbs before they reached them. Unfortunately, one of them managed to make contact on the ground inches in front of them, and the resulting blast knocked them off their feet.

Sia laughed her trademark laugh. “Now, Ifrit, bake that little potato for good!”

From its mighty maw, Ifrit began manifesting an even greater orb of fire, one that was even bigger than Tataru herself. An injured Nald’thal tried to stand on its feet, but its confidence was as toasted as they were about to be.

“I think this is it, Taru. It’s been nice knowin’ ya, but I’m kinda hoping my next master is taller.”

Tataru braced herself as Ifrit shot out the fire orb. However, a thick wall of ice suddenly emerged from the ground, which shielded the Champion. The two elements collided with each other, and a cloud of steam filled the area. The steam obscured two figures of similar build who had just arrived on the scene. The steam gave way to reveal...

“The Leveilleur twins!” Tataru and Nald’thal called in unison.

The twins, Alphniaud and Alisaie, stood wearing their own sailor outfits with their familiars Azeyma and Menphina respectively.

“The Champion of Menphina arrives on the scene!” Alisaie proclaimed.

“And the Champion of Azeyma, quick in tow!” Alphinaud followed up.

“Beware the might of the twins of light!” they said in unison.

Menphina turned to Nald’thal, her expression painfully smug. “Looks like I had to bail you out of another mess, Nald’thal.” 

“Sure, sure,” Nald’thal sighed. “I was just gettin’ in my element, y’know?”

“Indeed, in more ways than one.”

Sia, despite having witnessed her attack fail and reinforcement arrive, did not appear worried. “Good, you’re all here,” she said. “Now you all can burn in the inferno!” She faded into a cloud of black fog, quickly reappearing back onto the aetheryte crystal. With another snap of her fingers, Ifrit went hog wild.

Ifrit lept toward our heroes, slashing at them with ferocious claws that could sear them to the bone. The familiars launched spell after spell on the best, but they seemed to be having no great impact on the beast.

“Some champions we are,” Nald’thal panted.

“Don’t lose faith,” Alphinaud said. “We just have to use our full strength!”

“This thing’s too agile!” Alisaie pointed out. “We need to pin it down if we’re gonna use our signature attacks!”

As if waiting for that queue, a figure emerged from atop the Rising Stones, leaping what looked like malms into the air before crashing down upon Ifrit, slamming the beast onto the ground. 

“What?!” Sia cried.

The figure was none other than Dragoon Mask, a sharply dressed figure with silver hair who appeared to shower regularly.

“You called?” Dragoon Mask said heroically.

“No,” Alisaie said flatly.

Tataru, who would normally swoon and sigh at the sight of the noble Dragoon Mask, was fraught with worry. “Dragoon Mask, be careful up there! That’s an eikon!”

“The only icon here is your, Champion of Nald’thal,” he said, trying to be smooth. “Worry not about me. Unleash your strongest attack on Ifrit!”

Okay,  _ now _ Tataru was definitely swooning. Nald’thal had to call to her to snap her out of it, noting that Ifrit wouldn’t be done for the count for long. 

“Alright, everyone! Call upon the Twelve’s power!” Tataru shouted.

The three Champions held their books out in front of them. The familiars began channeling their power into their companions. A powerful ray of light began to coalesce in their pages.

_ “BEAM OF THE TWELVE!” _

Mighty beams, each signifying their respective element, fired at Ifrit. Sia wailed in agony as she witnessed Ifrit begin blown away by the power attack. The light from the books blinded everyone in the area, the beams continuously firing until...until…!

Until Tataru awoke on a couch in the East Aldenard Trading Company, dry drool on the side of her mouth. Hancock looked up from his desk after hearing Tataru suddenly stirring awake.

“Morning, sleepy head,” he said.

Tataru was slowly returning to reality. When she realized what she had just done, she leapt out of the couch, pop-eyed and face bright red.

“Oh no, did I fall asleep?! How embarrassing!”

Hancock couldn’t help but laugh. “Calm yourself, Tataru, it’s quite alright. We all get exhausted. Say, if you don’t mind my asking, what were you dreaming about? From the look on your face, it seemed exciting.”

“Oh…” Tataru looked wistful, putting a hand to her cheek. “I was just dreaming of a more magical time…”


	18. When Pigs Fly

With a little bit of pixie magic, and an unusual proficiency in breaking-and-entering, Tyr Beq and her dream-weaving companions, Ezel II and An Lad, entered the suite of a slumbering Crystarium citizen through their window. They fluttered discreetly toward a young man slumbering in bed. He was sweating, his face scrunched in torment. Tyr Beq was excited about these signs, as they were strong indication they finally found a human having a terrible nightmare. Ezel II, the flying dream vacuum pig, sucked in through his nostrils to absorb the dreams that plagued the young man. The dream was slightly tangy on his taste buds, like a dab of buffalo sauce rubbed on his tongue. He’s swallowed far worse.

The trio fled the scene, leaving not a trace, as Ezel II spat out the nightmare swirling in his mouth onto a barren field in the middle of Lakeland. The miasma that spewed out of him began taking form, manifesting into a black chocobo chick. The chick chirped and flapped at them, trying to act terrifying. It was rather cute, which made Tyr Beq feel a little guilty when she had to toast the little chick with fire magic. Only a little, though. After slaying so many tiny, cute nightmares, you start becoming desensitized.

She shook her head. “A tiny nightmare like that made that man sweat?” she said. “He probably couldn’t handle one of  _ your _ nightmares, An Lad.”

“I’d rather not tempt fate,” An Lad said, “though I must admit this errand is getting a little boring. I bet the children in Lyhe Mheg are having much more fun dreams.”

Ezel II explained, “An average nightmare isn’t going to produce the ferocious beasts the Warrior of Darkness fought off. If it did, we’d be in big trouble.”

Tyr Beq fluttered lower to the ground, pouting and crossing her arms. “I enjoy our little hunts, but is it too much to ask for a little excitement?”

There was no major threat to the realm of dreams as far as they were aware, but that Warrior of Darkness’s stupid philanthropy rubbed off on the once self-centered pixie. Now she actually had a desire to  _ help mortals _ , as if helping someone whose life burned out faster than a wax candle mattered at all. Despite how meaningless it all was, Tyr Beq kept tagging along with these hunt nightmares because of those silly, happy smiles the mortals made when they were finally sleeping peacefully. 

_ Oh Tyr Beq, you’re the silliest of all the pixies,  _ she thought.

An Lad put a comforting hand on her friend’s shoulder. “The night is still young, Tyr Beq. There’s still fun that could be had.”

Tyr Beq sighed. “I suppose. And if the hunt winds up boring, we can play pranks on the mortals we helped! We’ll consider it our service fee.”

“Well, if that’s the motivation you need...” Ezel II muttered to himself

The trio returned to the Crystarium suites, this time entering the suite above the one they had just invaded---erm, invited themselves into. For justice.

This suite was home to a Viera woman, who was tossing and turning violently in her bed. They had never seen a mortal so ravaged with terror as they slept. Ezel II was surprised not only to find two nightmares in a row but finding one that seemed particularly nasty. This had to be an ill omen. He hesitated at first, but the pixies egged him on to hurry and start gobbling. Their excitement over this “ill omen” was almost palpable. Ezel II gulped, then sucked.

…

**_MAMA-FUCKIN’-MIA THAT’S ONE SPICY MEAT-A-BALL-A!_ **

Engorged by the foul-tasting nightmare, the porxie zipped straight out of the suite, not bothering to keep quiet. The shock from the nightmare, coupled with the sound of Ezel II barging out the window, caused the Viera woman to awake with a start. Thankfully, she could not see the pixies. They chased after Ezel II unseen.

Once Ezel II made it to the usual dumping ground, he could not hold in the dreadful aether a second longer or he was viable to explode. He spewed the miasma out of his nostrils, which coalesced into a terrible, dark mass much larger than the porxie that had just housed it. The dark mass began to take on corporal form, transforming into a colossal behemoth that roared in the Ezel II’s face. The pink porxie felt himself grow white, his brief life as a familiar flashing before his eyes. He screamed for help, and the pixies hastened their arrival.

“A behemoth?!” Tyr Beq said excitedly. “Now that’s what I’m talking about!”

Tyr Beq and An Lad drew pixie magic from their fingertips.

“Take this, you naughty nightmare!”

The two pixies fired spells of various elements such as fire, water, ice and wind at the nightmare behemoth. These spells accomplished nothing but further aggravating it. The behemoth snapped its maws at Tyr Beq, who flitted away with a yelp, narrowly avoiding becoming beast chow. She and others flew away as fast as they could flap their little wings (or floppy ears) as the behemoth gave chase. They rose up high into the air where the behemoth could not reach them. Theoretically, anyway. No sane creature would look at a behemoth and assume it could reach the sky, but through the power of its intense muscle strength, it leapt into the air and tried to bite them, like an angry shark leaping out of the water. No matter how much they raised altitude, the behemoth still managed to leap toward them. It was only a matter of time before they were caught, and after they were, the behemoth would set its sights on the citizens of Lakeland.

“What do we do?” An Lad cried as the behemoth grew closer. There was no way they could overpower the behemoth with their strength. They had to get cunning or this would be the end.

None of them could defeat a powerful nightmare, but one of them was capable of transporting them. Ezel II steeled himself for what he was about to do.

When the nightmare behemoth jumped out once more, Ezel II inhaled deeply, swallowing the nightmare up once more. The two pixies were left stunned as Ezel II began flying higher and higher into the night sky.

“Ezel, what’re you doing?!” Tyr Beq called out.

“This is the only way!” Ezel II shouted back. 

He felt like his innards were melting as he flew as high as he could go. As he stared at the stars in the sky, he regretted not flying toward them earlier, in better circumstances. The blissful night sky everyone risked their lives to bring back...it brought a tear to his eye that shimmered as it fell to the surface like a droplet of rain. He prayed the people of Lakeland would never take it for granted.

Ezel II was no longer in sight of the pixies. All they could see was a mass of dark aether light up the night sky like a burst of fireworks, then nothing but stars. 

“EZEEEEEEL!!”

As the reality of Ezel II’s fate sunk in, Tyr Beq began to bawl like a child. “Oh, Ezel…!” she sniffled. “My dear friend...So many things left unsaid…!”

An Lad was softly wiping her own tears from her eyes. “Oh, how could I have let him eat that nightmare? This is all my fault!”

“I agree, it  _ is _ all your fault!” Tyr Beq wailed.

The two pixies continued to mourn their lost porxie friend until they heard the sound of a beast crying out from above. Looking up, they saw the behemoth careening down to the surface, and right above them. 

They swiftly flew out of the way as the behemoth hit the ground, causing a sizable tremor that likely woke half of Lakeland. Aether dissipated from the crash site, the nightmare behemoth no more. The pixies blinked in confusion, and a few moments later, they heard something panting and descending from the sky. It was their friend.

“Ezel II!” they said in unison.

Ezel II was even more winded after the two pixies pounced on him and squeezed him like a squeak toy.

“You scared us half to eternal slumber!” An Lad sniffled. “We thought you had sacrificed yourself.”

“For a  _ nightmare?” _ Ezel II said. “Certainly not! I simply rose as high as I could go before releasing the behemoth and letting gravity take care of the rest.” He looked at the two pixies, noticing how puffy their eyes were. “Hold on...you two were sad that I might’ve perished? A porxie like me?”

Tyr Beq released her grip on the porxie. “I…!” 

She furiously wiped tired from her face, glaring at Ezel II as if he had just insulted her.

“Yes!” she shouted. “Of course we were! You’re our playmate, you flying porkchop!”

Indeed, Tyr Beq was the silliest of all the pixies, and her empathy was what set her apart.


	19. Irenic

The mammet affectionately called “Gigi” sat cross-legged in front of an Ishgardian fireplace as the Warrior of Light slept soundly in her inn bed. Another long day of tailing the Warrior as they went on their daring adventures had come to an end. Normally the Warrior slept on her right side, but a laceration on her right cheek, which she earned in a fight, forced her to sleep on the left. This would no doubt throw off her rhythm in the morning.

There was no reason the mammet sat in front of the fireplace. Gigi had no body temperature, no will or desire to stare at the flames, and would likely power off soon. Yet as it gazed into the fire, it felt a jolt in its circuitry, the gears in its head spinning as it called upon some unusual protocol. The code was peculiar, offered no manner of instruction, just played recordings from the past, prompted by current stimuli.

Gigi had seen a fire like this before, when he belonged to Cyr. The former inquisitor was growing accustomed to life in Hildibrand’s estate in Idyllshire. He was sitting on a cushioned stool in front of a fireplace in his personal study, staring at a leatherbound book containing the tenets of the Holy See, seemingly disgruntled. Gigi had only recently been powered on for the first time and was absently monitoring its creator from atop a hardwood desk. Suddenly, Cyr rose from his seat with a frustrated sigh.

“Only thing this damnable book ever taught me was hatred.” he jeered.

Without a moment’s hesitation, the book was cast into the fire. If anyone had attempted such a heretical act in his presence six months ago, he’d attempt to save the book from the flames, risking third-degree burns on his hands and singeing the sleeves of his robe. Then he’d smack the perpetrator while yelling all manner of profanities before throwing him into a gaol. Cyr cringed at the very thought.

He became aware that the mammet’s eyes were on him. Was there still a faint trace of Gigi left in there, sizing up Cyr’s intentions? Would he even be worthy of forgiveness after he initially treated Gigi and his loved ones like damnable abominations? He kept his gaze to the fireplace, his arms leaning against the mantlepiece, thinking aloud in case anyone was listening.

“They say religion is supposed to lead you toward eternal peace, but all I found was a lifetime of paranoia and smug superiority.” 

Cyr returned to his desk, sitting in front of Gigi. His hands rested underneath his chin as his elbows rested on the desk, and he looked at Gigi with a small glimmer of hope. Gigi’s pointed eyes blinked, as if it were anticipating.

“I regret not thanking you when I had the opportunity, Gigi,” Cyr said. “You’ve changed my perspective for the better; you and that oaf of an inspector.”

The recording stopped. Gigi was once again at the fireplace in the present day. Its tiny head turned to its new, sleeping master. It waddled toward her, climbing onto the bed and standing up carefully so as not to rouse her awake. Looking at the scar on her cheek, Gigi held its arm out toward it. This protocol was also new to Gigi, not only calling toward some long-forgotten command but doing so without being programmed or commanded to first. A mechanical-like aura surrounded the Warrior of Light’s scarred cheek. In an instant, the scar was gone, her skin looking soft to the touch. She stirred, rubbing her cheek unconsciously. When she felt no scar, a smile spread across her lips, and she rolled over.

Gigi noted how peaceful she looked, which brought to mind Cyr’s peaceful expression the night before it was given away to the Warrior of Light. Cyr’s final words to it still played in its head:

“Everyone under the sun walks with clouded eyes. When you come back to us, make sure yours are tinted with compassion, not judgement.”


	20. Wish

Following the Scions’ return to the Source, most of them were left with a considerable amount of free time for the first time in years. Members like Thancred almost immediately resumed regular duties, like espionage and intel, while Urianger and Y’shtola once again locked themselves away to be left to their devices. The rest were on standby, typically traveling outside the Rising Stones, meaning Tataru and Krile were usually the only prominent members there.

Tataru began to feel like a stranger to her friends, who had apparently lived out entirely separate lives in the First. She was up to her eyeballs in work (though perhaps that idiom lacks its usual punch with her height), but she decided that the Scions must get together again, and soon. Every other workplace engaged in some form of bonding exercise, so Tataru figured it was about time the Scions did the same. She urged everyone to set aside time in a few days so that everyone could get together for a retreat.

Yet what to do when the day arrived? Trust exercises? Fishing day? Nobody had the time to spend the whole day together, so Tataru needed to think of something quick, fun and easy to do. She asked Krile for her opinion on the matter.

“We’re to bond on this trip, correct?” Krile said. “I say it should involve sharing something personal.”

Sharing something personal? An idea quickly sprang to mind. Tataru remembered picking up on a few interestings traditions while working from Kugane. There was one in particular that would definitely be personal.

The day arrived and all the Scions, including the Warrior of Light, gathered at the Rising Stones promptly on time. They were not briefed beforehand what they would be doing and where, so they were surprised when Tataru guided them to the Fogfens of all damnable places to gather around an inconspicuous sycamore tree.

“I see our travel budget is rather tight,” Thancred joked.

G’raha Tia said, “Quite honestly, I was under the impression we would remain at the Rising Stones.” 

Tataru tried not to let the wet blankets get to her. “I know this isn’t the nicest spot in Eorzea, but I wanted it to be close to the Rising Stones. We’re gonna make a lasting memory together, right here!”

Krile chuckled. “You don’t have to dress it up quite like that. It won’t live up to the excitement.”

Wow, no shortage of wet blankets here...

“Tataru, pray speaketh thine mind,” Urianger said. “I fear thine audience grows restless.”

Tataru had a whole introduction prepared, but the mood was lost. So she spoke plainly: “We’re going to write our wishes onto this tree.”

Everyone looked to the tree.

“Is it magic?” Robin asked, moving closer to the tree.

Y’shtola shook her head. “Were it actually capable of granting wishes, we’d have known ages ago.” 

Tataru explained, “I wanted us to think of something personal today and write it down. In Kugane, I learned about this tradition where you privately write down a wish on special trees.”

“Privately?” Alisaie said. “So, we’re sharing something personal...with ourselves? Doesn’t that defeat the purpose?”

“I’m adding a liiiitle Eorzean twist. When we finish writing our wish, we’ll share it with the group. Write out a personal wish, and we’ll work together to make it come true!”

Alphinaud looked pleased, looking around at his comrades. “Well, that should be easy. Assuredly, we all share the same hopes and desires.”

“That’s assuming everyone is as one-track-minded as you,” Alisaie shrugged.

“Don’t put on airs, Alphinaud,” Krile teased. “We all know what your deepest desire truly is.”

Alphinaud, face red, stammered out a retort. “And wh, just what would that be, exactly?!”

His two tormentors laughed at how easy it was to get a reaction out of him, and the other Scions quickly joined in on the laughter. Ah, camaraderie. How Tataru missed it. 

“Alright, let’s begin!” She procured several notes, string and ink to write with, from her travel bag. “Everyone grab a note.”

From behind, Tataru could hear what sounded like the scraping of tree bark. The Scions turned to the tree to see Robin had begun carving a wish into the bark with a knife. She stopped as she noticed the notes in Tataru’s hands and everyone staring at her like a two-headed, Eden-conjured Leviathan.

She blinked. “Ah, so you write them on that, and not on…” She swiftly sheathed the knife back inside her boot. “Right, that’s easier.”

Everyone lined up to write down their wish and tie it to the Fogfens Wishing Tree, as Tataru insisted it be called from this point hence.

Some wishes were fairly simple. Alisaie wished to get stronger so she can vanquish any foe, and G’raha Tia wished to go on as many adventures with the Scions as possible. Reasonable goals that everyone could work toward.

Then there was Y’shtola, who wished to continue perfecting her magic so that she could learn to send herself across aether streams and dimensions. Urianger’s wish was also an incredibly specific thirst for knowledge that baffled the other Scions, who all silently vowed that those two would have to work on their goals on their own.

Last to go up was Robin. She read her note back to herself. She was nervous, as if calling back to her childhood. 

Robin wished for a lot of things these past few years. When she first joined the Scions, she wished for the power to protect Eorzea. Yet when she got that wish, she began to lose herself, and her desires became contradictory. Some days she wished to become a hero worthy of my title. Others she wanted to return to being a no-name adventurer, living her life doing annoying tasks for people who didn’t govern - didn’t ask the world of her. Some nights she wished she could bring back the dead, everyone she failed along the way, and sometimes, she wished to join them…

She’s not outgrown her regrets. Only now does she truly understand now why everyone makes the choices they do. Terrible and confusing as life may be, their lives are a story worth telling. No matter what anyone makes of you, your life is your own. We shape it, and we share it. We fight in hopes that the pain we suffer might mean something to someone other than ourselves. What we do now won’t matter at the end, but they matter now, in our slice of history. That’s enough.

Her mind kept going back to the First. A world ravaged by light, filled with people who seemed to have lost all meaning. They managed to fight back - managed to find hope, love. A voice. The least anyone could do was listen to that voice, even if it came from Ascians like Emet-Slech and Elidibus.

After a long silence, Robin spoke. “I wish for our lives to be felt for eons to come.”

She began tying her wish to the tree Tataru looked pleased. As everyone stepped up to profess their dearest wishes, she realized that her friends hadn’t changed that much. They just seemed...happier.

“Is that truly your wish?” Y’shtola said. “Methinks you’re hiding something after all that suspense. Surely you have a deeper desire than that?”

“What desire could she possibly have?” Thancred mused. “The woman practically has everything.”

Robin scoffed. “Get me one of those giant cactuars from the Gold Saucer,  _ then _ I’ll have everything.”

“T’would appear we have a goal in mind for our next retreat,” G’raha chuckled.


End file.
